


Control - A Dark Legends Prologue story

by bluehwys



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Legends, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehwys/pseuds/bluehwys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark Legend Universe -- Jean leaves off tending Scott to tend<br/>to herself.  Set between x_tricks' Gathering Shadows - Jean and Gathering Shadows - Bobby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Needing

They were all in her head now, all the time it seemed. Hank with his research, the kids with all their teenaged angst now intensified thanks to the virus. Ororo, Kurt. Logan on occasion. The only one missing was the professor, but he had his own burdens to carry. Even Marie -- long buried -- managed to hang around for the festivities. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep everyone out. The worst by far was Scott. Screaming his agonies into her mind, begging, pleading in the middle of the night for some kind of release. Any kind. There was no hope of shutting _him_ out. Damn telepathic link.

How many times had she considered severing it to save her sanity? She’d never really thought to keep count. It didn’t matter anyway; the vows would always win out - ‘For better or worse, in sickness and in health’… it didn’t matter that they’d yet to take them. She’d thought they were mere words; she’d never given much thought to what they truly meant. Now, sitting at her dying fiancé’s bedside in the middle of the night, the full weight of those words hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks. She loved Scott, she honestly did, never mind the rumors and the whole ‘Logan Situation’ as it was referred to. She loved Scott. But was it enough? She was doing the best she could, considering, but could she be doing more? She was trying, really she was. Trying to be a caring girlfriend in her fiancé’s time of suffering. Trying to be a strong leader in Scott’s place. Trying to keep her ever-tenuous grip on her identity with all these damn people traipsing through her head whenever they damn well pleased!

There goes Hank again, hard at work on some new theory to stop this horrid disease. His equations and formulas raced through her mind, made her head spin. She closed her eyes. Concentrate…concentrate. Slowly Hank’s voice faded into the now constant background static that played in her psyche. There. She breathed a sigh of relief, better.

“Jean?” Scott coughed violently, demanding her attention for the moment. She reached for his hand.

“Here, love.” She didn’t bother with the bedside lamp. She didn’t want to see him, not right now. She berated herself for being a horrible person, but still didn’t switch on the light.

“H- hurts,” he was close to tears now. It pained her to see him reduced to this and not be able to stop it.

“I know, baby, I know. Sshhh,” she crooned as she stroked his forehead and did what she could to soothe him. Which wasn’t much. “Try to go back to sleep.”

“You have to do something, Jean, please. It hurts so much. Please.”

“I know Scott, but you need your rest.” She checked the sedative on the nightstand – empty. She’d have to go to the lab for more. “Try to sleep baby, I’ll be right back.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, cool now that the fever had finally broken, and stood, her body stiff from too many hours in the chair. Sure, it was a plush little armchair, but still, not comfortable after eight or so hours.

She left the room to the faint accompaniment of his sobs and headed for the stairs. She didn’t bother with a robe, at this time of night her old cotton nightgown would be fine for the quick trip, and Hank didn’t care what she wore.

Three flights down to the elevator and the elevator to the lab, Hank was in the lab, he would have the sedatives. Her mind raced with this mantra in an effort to keep everyone at bay. All the tricks and techniques the professor had taught her didn’t seem to work as well anymore. Her shields kept slipping; people kept getting in. She’d almost, _almost_ , give anything to be headblind.

Two flights down to the elevator and the elevator to the lab, Hank was in the lab, he would have the sedatives. 

Now here’s Bobby, slipping past her shields and mantra, fretting over Jubilee, still mourning Marie, worrying over his own fate. She shook her head to try and chase him out, to no avail. She paused on the heavily shadowed landing to concentrate and push him down into the rest of the background noise in her head. There, done.

One flight down to the elevator and the elevator to the lab, Hank was in the lab, he would have the sedatives. She raced down the last flight, bare feet silent on the carpeted risers, red hair streaming behind her like a banner.

She made it to the first floor without incident, but paused between the stairs and the elevator, head cocked. Logan was down here, somewhere; she could sense that feral mind of his more and more lately. It was hard to explain. He never invaded her headspace, simply – hovered – at the edges. A non ‘path wouldn’t understand, but she knew when he was close and what his mindset was. And right now, his mind was set on getting drunk in the kitchen.

She stood in the hall debating. Should she? Scott needed her, but then, Scott always needed her. Logan needed her, but in an entirely different way. What about what _she_ needed? All of a sudden she was tired of being a nursemaid. She wanted to be a woman again, even if it was only for a few moments. Maybe, if she was lucky, in those few moments the voices would quiet. Maybe, if she was really lucky, they’d stop all together.

She altered her course.


	2. Briefly Gaining

She didn’t bother with the lights as she crossed the threshold into the kitchen. Throughout the rest of the house, heavy curtains were drawn across all the windows, even in the middle of the day -- who wants to see the photographs on the walls when nearly everyone in them is dying? But in the kitchen, there were no such drapes to close, so the full moon shone through the windows and French doors and gave plenty of illumination. As her eyes adjusted to the lighting that burnished everything silver, she looked around the room.

The sink was full of dirty dishes, because no one felt up to (or thought of) filling the dishwasher and adding soap. The refrigerator was most likely empty, because, again, no one felt up to or thought of grocery shopping. Ditto for the cupboards and pantry. She made a mental note to get to the store and at least clean the kitchen, if nothing else. 

Logan was sprawled shirtless in a straight-backed wooden chair, a bottle of the professor’s best scotch on the table and a glass of the same in his hand. He nodded to her.

“Jeannie.”

She didn’t bother to respond, simply watched his nose twitch as he scented the air, scented her. His eyes darkened as the musk of her desire rolled over him.

“Jeannie.” Deeper this time.

She crossed the room with slow, confidant strides until she stood before him. He studied her a brief moment before resting a hand on her thigh.

“You sure about this darlin’?”

“Logan.” A statement, a command.

He set his glass on the table and reached for her as she lifted her nightgown to her hips and straddled him. Strong hands gripped her and pulled her onto his denim-clad lap to grind against his sudden erection.

“God Jeannie, I’ve wanted this so long,” he breathed as he buried his face at her throat, in her thick hair that smelled of strawberries and only slightly of sickness.

She laced her fingers through his dark hair and wrenched his head back, suddenly furious. What _he_ wanted? 

“This isn’t about you, Logan,” she hissed.

Before he could react, she used her telekinesis to force his arms from around her to behind the chair.

“Now stay.”

He growled at her and she responded in kind. She was calling the shots here, not him. This wasn’t about him. 

She trailed her hands down his chest to the waistband of his jeans, tweaking his nipples hard along the way just to see him react. She wasn’t disappointed. He jerked and snarled, bucked his hips into hers and very nearly whimpered when she repeated the action.

“Oh, you like that?” she purred. Another low growl rumbled through his chest. “Mmm… Interesting.” Her hands scratched down his well-defined stomach to his button fly. She traced his cock through the soft denim. He was thicker than Scott, if not quite as long. She didn’t mind though, because he was good and hard. She just wanted him harder. She settled her palm on his groin and leaned forward slightly to murmur in his ear.

“I hear you sometimes, you know, in my head. When you’re in the shower stroking yourself and thinking about me, you get so wrapped up in the  
moment that you forget not to project.” Her other hand rose to twine in the hair at his nape as her voice dropped to a husky whisper and her lips brushed his sensitive ear, “You’re a very nasty man, aren’t ya, Wolvie.”

He groaned and struggled against her telekinetic hold on his arms.

"Jeannie..."

She pulled back, brought the hand on his groin to his throat and shifted forward to rest firmly on his erection. Another groan found it’s way to his lips, but died there as he noticed her eyes go strangely vacant.

“You’re not the only one I hear though; everybody’s up there.” She paused, head cocked as she listened. “John’s getting all maudlin and melodramatic again. I’m really starting to not like that boy.” She concentrated on pushing John into the background and only just succeeded. Her eyes cleared and focused on Logan’s. “Where were we?”

“Are you okay Jean?”

“I’m fine.” Her tone was conversational, as if they were talking in the rec room instead of dry humping on a kitchen chair. Then she leaned forward and nuzzled just behind his ear, “Mmm… you smell good.” She pressed her tongue to that soft, smooth patch of skin, “Taste even better.”

“God Jeannie,” he bucked his hips against her, panted, “please, I want to -- "

The sharp crack of her palm against his jaw snapped his head to the side and shocked him into silence.

“I don’t give a fuck what you want Logan, this isn’t about you.” Her voice was low and dangerous. Didn’t he get it? She would have thought Logan of all people would understand. After all, he struggled every day with his control. So why didn’t he get it? And why couldn’t these people stay out of her head! Bobby was back, coupled with Hank and a definite undertone of Ororo. Was a side effect of the Legend Virus forgetting how NOT to project your thoughts?

She shook her head and began to move against Logan in earnest; she needed a distraction from the goings on in there. She slid a hand between their bodies and shifted her panties to the side. There, like that. Her head dropped back and her eyes closed. The friction of denim on her sensitive clit was just what she needed, and she pressed harder against him. He tipped his head forward to capture a nipple between his teeth, nipping and sucking greedily through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She hissed in a breath, rocked her hips and gripped his shoulders hard enough to bruise.

“Almost… almost…” The voices were almost gone, she just needed a little more. She ground against his hard cock, fucking him through his jeans, and he thrust his hips to meet her, growling deep in his chest as he released her nipple and latched onto the top of her breast, biting to mark her as his. Her rhythm never slowed as she tore his head from her chest with her telekinesis.

“I am not yours,” she snarled at him, then couldn’t say anything as the tension that had been pooling in her lower belly exploded along her veins and ripped the breath from her lungs and the voices from her head. Her body stiffened, hips moving gracelessly as her orgasm washed over her. She was vaguely aware of Logan growling her name repeatedly, but didn’t care. He continued to thrust against her, seeking his own release, but she rested her cheek on his shoulder and used her powers to still his hips.

“Damn it, Jean,” he practically whimpered. “Come on. Please.” He flexed and released his claws, frustrated.

“Sshhh.” She slid her hands down his arms to caress the inside of his wrists with her thumbs and sighed. The voices were nothing but a low-level buzzing at the outskirts of her mind now. Except for Scott of course, but he was sleeping so -- 

Scott!! She lifted her head with a start. His sedatives! She stood on shaky legs and used Logan’s chest to steady herself as she adjusted  
her panties. She needed to get to the lab. 

“W- what are ya doin’ Red?”

“I’ve got to see Hank,” she answered, not quite meeting his eyes. “Sedatives.”

“You’re not gonna leave me like this are ya Jeannie?” She shrugged and moved towards the door. “Oh come on, Jean, please. You can’t leave me  
like this.” He struggled in the grip of her powers. “Jeannie.” A low growl, then he did whimper. “Please darlin’.”

She paused in the doorway, but didn’t turn around.

“Scott needs me, Logan.” 

“I need you.” Barely above a whisper, but in the quiet of the kitchen it was loud enough.

She lifted one shoulder in response, “He needs me more.” She didn’t wait for a reply, just continued down the hall to the elevator. She heard him roar her name and tightened her grip on him. Only when the steel doors of the lift were closed safely behind her did she release him from her hold.


End file.
